Navigation de la Mer Bleue Profonde
by Ms. Numbers
Summary: SUSPENDED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. The classic story takes a twist when it is moved from the streets of Paris to the ocean and a ship named the Ayesha.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Thanks to CanaceErinn, my fabulous beta!**

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**TO THE HESITATING PURCHASER**

_If sailor tales to sailor tunes,_

_Storm and adventure, heat and cold,_

_If schooners, islands, and maroons,_

_And buccaneers, and buried gold,_

_And all the old romance, retold_

_Exactly in the ancient way,_

_Can please, as me they pleased of old,_

_The wiser youngsters of today:_

_--So be it, and fall on! If not,_

_If studious youth no longer crave,_

_His ancient appetites forgot,_

_Kingston, or Ballentyne the brave,_

_Or Cooper of the wood and wave:_

_So be it, also! And may I_

_And all my pirates share the grave_

_Where these and their creation lie!_

**_-- _Treasure Island**_, Robert Louis Stevenson_

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I remember the water.

Dark…murky…one could easily get lost in there, if one were stupid enough to swim.

I can almost smell the dampness in the air.

The rough hands that I had felt many a time. That hair, long and braided and full of silver beads. I will never forget the way the moon shone off the silver, making tiny stars twinkle out of nowhere. He was something out of a story…someone so interesting, yet so different.

It was an endless dream.

Those years of my life are some that I will never forget. Even if I had not taken the care to write my adventures down, I could not have possibly forgotten those days, weeks, months spent aboard that ship.


	2. The Adventure Begins

_This journal belongs in the possession of one Jenn Harmon, former cabin boy to the ships _Peacock _and _Ayesha_. If it is ever found outside of her possession, do not show it to anyone. The events contained in the following pages are only for certain eyes and should never be revealed to anyone else._

_- J.H. _

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"Land ho!" came the shout from the crow's nest aboard the _Peacock_. With the cry of our destination being announced, the crew suddenly came alive with anticipation of dry land and exploration of new territory. We had been sailing for weeks en route to the islands on a mission to trade with the natives and possibly bring new, yet valuable, goods to the mainland.

I ran about taking care of my chores in anticipation of my adventures that were just within reach. I had dreamed about these islands every night as we sailed closer and closer to the final destination.

While completing my daily chores, I heard the captain's voice ring out loud and clear. "Cabin boy!" Dropping my broom, I ran to the side of Captain James Marksby, who was standing at the helm of the ship. "Yes'ir!" I proudly said, as I saluted him.

Turning to look at me, Captain Marksby held a stern look on his handsome features. A man of middle-age, the captain had started his sailing career as a cabin boy when he was barely ten years old; continuing up through the ranks, he had finally gained command of his own ship right after his twenty-third birthday. I felt a special connection with the captain, even regarding him as a father, a brother, and a friend.

True enough, I had some family, but since I lost both of my parents when I was no more than three, I had been raised by an aunt in Liverpool. She made no bones about the fact she thought of me as one of her own and raised me the best she knew.

Yet…I never felt like I belonged with her. I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I knew I would never be able to be a woman of society, having to attend functions and wear fancy clothes. I could never function in the world as a woman. I just could _not_. The spirit of adventure ran too deeply in my veins for me to try and be something in society's eyes.

My father, William, had been a lawyer in London and was well-known throughout the city as being fair and just; he had dreamed of practicing law since he was a young boy, so I know he would understand my lifelong passion for adventure. I had dreamed of seeing the world since I was a child, although now I am not old by any means (I am a strong thirteen years as of this writing).

Since he and my mother died when I was but three years old, I do not remember what their faces looked like.

Or how they sounded.

Their touch…I do not remember it at all.

I wish I could remember my mother. I am sure she was beautiful. I have even created an image of my parents in my mind since no portraits exist of them; my aunt once told me that my mother (my aunt was my father's elder sister) was a raven haired beauty with the clearest violet eyes she had ever seen.

Of course, Aunt Felicity would talk about my father more and even though she did, she did not dislike my mother; she simply had more stories about my father. She would often tell me stories about his childhood and how he loved playing a captain of a sailing vessel, as she called it. He made her tie up the rigging many times or he would tie her to the mast (which was a large tree in the yard) or make her pretend to be a savage of some sort. Those stories always made me laugh with delight. Even now, I feel a strong connection with my father because of hearing Aunt Felicity's childhood memories.

I have often wondered what they would think if they knew their only child had sailed with pirates…


	3. An Encounter

While I stood at attention, waiting for Captain Marksby's orders, I took a look at the beautiful ship, possessor of the deck on which I was standing.

The _Peacock_ was truly a sight to behold. Anyone who appreciated sailing or the vessels would positively have wanted to shimmy up her main mast just to get a feel for her. Originally built as a present for the owner's wife, Elizabeth, it was put into commission for trading, designed to sail freely in the westward winds to the islands and back once more. Even though she was meant to sail as something more than just trading, Mr. Applewhite wanted to use her in the merchant and trading fields.

A brig, the _Peacock _was a two-master with her foremast square rigged; on the main mast were the square sails, along with the fore-and-aft gaffsail, the brigsail…aye, she was such a beauty! There wasn't much need for a large crew, as our mission was little more than an island trading expedition. I was along simply for the experience of it all, so to speak.

How I wished to own my own ship one day! Of course, if I did, I would be the captain. No one else would be good enough to take command of my ship, which I would name the _Jumper_. No particular reason other than I liked that name.

As I stood there dreaming of my own ship, I started to recollect how I first came in contact with Captain Marksby and the _Peacock_ to begin with.

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Taken in by my Aunt Felicity when my parents had died, I was not a cooperative child. I did not understand why my parents had left me and were never coming back…how could a child possibly realize the finality of death? 'Tis impossible, in my opinion. Regardless of the methods that were used to explain my parents' death to me, I still think that Aunt Felicity could have tried harder to comfort an orphaned child. Eh, no matter…'tis neither here nor there.

I remember one day in particular…the day I decided I wanted to set sail for adventure on the deep blue sea…

"Jenny Harmon! I will not have you sailing off like some awful sailor," Aunt Felicity exclaimed, once I had made my wishes known to her. "You were put into my care to raise you in the ways of being a lady! What would your poor deceased parents think if they could hear what you have said!"

Looking up into my aunt's eyes, I tried to find any evidence that she was saying this out of love for me; yet, I could not help but think that this fuss was nothing more than concern for her own image. _I would like to think I would have their blessings…I really do not know what Mother and Father would say, but I like to imagine that if they were here, they would tell me to follow my dreams, no matter what it took._

"Aunt Felicity…I just want to try it, to see if I even like it! I did not say I wanted to make it my life's work!" I protested.

"I will not hear another word!"

"Bu-"

"Not another word!"

With that last final thought on the matter, I was sent to my room to consider my 'sins.' I supposed at that moment that I would never set foot on a ship as long as I lived with Aunt Felicity. Somehow, I managed to get my hands on a copy of the local newspaper. What I was looking for, I did not know.

Then I found it.

Advertised in the paper was an ad that said the following:

Brig_ Peacock_, to sail on April the sixteenth, by morning's tide. Captain James Marksby, master.

As I sat on my bed with the paper clutched in my hands, I wondered if they needed a cabin boy. I knew I could not do much else, but I could train to do any of the chores aboard ship. Determined to do what I desired, I began to plot how I was going to get to the ship without Aunt Felicity finding out.

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The next morning, before daylight had come up, I snuck out of my room to make my way to the waterfront, specifically the _Peacock_'s pier. I opened my window which looked out into my aunt's garden. Fastening the shutters back and slowly pulling the glass up so it would not creak, I gathered my skirts up and crawled out of the window…except once out of my second-story room, I realized I had made a mistake – I had no way to get down.

Hanging onto the windowsill and peering down at the ground twenty feet below me, I wondered what I was going to do. I could not jump – I might break my leg. There was a large tree not too far away, but it was still too far away to try and jump into it. What could I do? I'd come this far…I couldn't turn back now. Well, I could, but I did not want to.

Being as quiet as possible, I lowered myself as far as I would go. Then grabbing onto the windowsill with the tips of my fingers, I decided the only way to go would be to land in the bushes. _Here goes nothing!_ I let go and fell, backside down, into the prickly bushes!

Ooof!

I lay still for a moment, the wind knocked out of me. Gradually, I began to move my arms and legs, making sure nothing was broken. I breathed a sigh of relief that nothing was out of place. Pulling myself out of the bushes, I brushed my dress out and straightened my mussed hair. As I walked away from the house, I began to realize I had no idea how to get to the waterfront.

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Through much wandering and cursing my stupidity, I finally arrived at the waterfront an hour later. I knew I had arrived just by the smell of dampness in the air…it was a penetrating smell, one that almost followed you wherever you went. Anyway, I had hoped to secure my place on the _Peacock_ by now and be on my way home, not just now arriving at the docks. Stupidity aside, I began trying to see which ship was the one I was searching for. It was rather difficult to read the names in the dark even though there were lanterns around, so I began to get closer and closer to the ships in order to see. I did not notice I was getting rather close to the edge of the pier until I fell in.

Splash!

I immediately came up to the surface sputtering and spitting water. I knew how to swim, but I was a tad rusty in my form since I had to keep it hidden from Aunt Felicity. I paddled over to the dock and tried to pull myself out, but my skirts had become extremely heavy with the added water. So there I was, struggling to haul myself up out of the water when two hands reached down and drew me out, as though I was no heavier than a rag doll.

Up I went and then set down gently on the pier. Pushing the wet hair out of my face, I struggled to see my rescuer. I peered up at him and without uttering a sound, I studied him from head to foot. I could not really see his face that well since he wore a large brimmed hat, but I could almost swear that his face…was not real. I cannot really explain it…I just know that whoever he was, he saved my life.

I bent down to wring out my skirts a bit and then looked up to thank my rescuer, but he had vanished into the night.

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Once I had dried out a bit, I came in contact with Captain Marksby, closer to where the _Peacock_ was docked. To my surprise, he accepted my proposal without any argument about my being female.

"So…it does not bother you that I am a girl, Captain Marksby?" I asked, twisting a part of my skirt in my hand.

"As long as you are willing to hold your own with the crew, I see no immediate problems," he replied, smiling at me.

With that, I thanked him and received orders to report at the same dock the next week precisely at dawn.

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The very next week, I did just that. I left a note for Aunt Felicity, saying I appreciated everything she had done for me. I just needed to go and figure out my life…strong words for someone my age, I know. Yet, when death tears your perfect world apart, somehow you find the strength to carry on…to go on living, as would have been my parents' wish.

As for my clothes, I had learned to sew much by force since Aunt Felicity had insisted all young ladies should know how. I am now grateful that I actually paid attention…that skill has helped me more than I ever imagined. At night once she had gone to sleep, I would pull the garments out from under my mattress and sew on them by candlelight; stitch by stitch, I pieced together my sailing outfit – loose-fitting pants, a boy's shirt, and a scarf to tie my hair up. For the shoes, I…borrowed…a pair from my cousin. I did not think he would miss them at all.

When the time came, I donned the clothes I had so carefully made and left the note on the sideboard in the dining area. I knew she would find it there in the morning. At first, I felt bad for running away like this, but I realized that if I were to fulfill my dreams, this is what had to be done.

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…and so, dear reader, that is how I came to be aboard the _Peacock_. Granted, it was not an exciting and daring escape from an evil aunt or whatnot, just a girl running away to join the crew of a merchant ship bound for the islands.

Little did I know it was to be a mission not soon forgotten…


	4. Forgotten Dreams, Lost Souls

**A/N: Special thanks goes to my new beta, Erik…thanks for spotting my mistakes and cleaning this baby up!**

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On the other side of the world, or so it seemed, a ship set sail from a remote island hidden in the middle of nowhere.

At the helm stood a man in a large brimmed hat, decorated with magnificent plumes of feathers that fluttered in the warm ocean breeze. While his crew scurried around performing their daily chores aboard ship, he looked off into the distance, a weathered and weary look in his blue eyes.

Placing a long and narrow hand on the rail closest to him, his thoughts gradually moved in the direction of _her_ once more.

_She was everything to me…my world. Why can I not forget about her? Ah well…perhaps this life will allow me to lose myself, once and for all_.

Everything was all too slow to him. His movements felt lethargic as everyone seemed to be speeding around him, as if time had slowed down for him alone. Eventually, his steps took him to the door of his cabin; he did not remember moving from the helm to that spot on the lower deck. He gently pushed the door open and went inside, closing himself off from the world once again.

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A month into the expedition, I was beginning to realize that this was not the adventure I had anticipated when I ran away from Aunt Felicity's house. Mopping, tying up the ropes, helping the cook, doing what the captain assigned…it was fine, but hardly an adventure.

What I wanted, what I _dreamed_ of was meeting pirates! I always wanted to see pirates with my own eyes, yet at this rate, it was not going to happen. What pirate captain would want to capture this ship? We were nothing but a bunch of boring sailors on a trading expedition to the islands.

As I was mopping up on the deck one morning, one of the passengers approached me with a question perched on his perfectly shaped lips. I really did not know him since I was often too busy to talk to the few passengers aboard; that and the captain did not really encourage the mixing of crew and passengers.

"Oh cabin boy!" he said, in a rather loud and pompous manner. He walked in a quick fashion, almost as if he was a type of bird skimming across the water. With his hand raised in the air and his index finger pointing to the sky, he headed straight for me.

I stopped mopping and studied his approaching figure, with both curiosity and amusement. His hair, a golden blond, was perfectly shaped and rather than tying it back – as was the fashion – he chose to let it hang loose and curl under, forming a pageboy of sorts. I thought he looked prissy and feminine, just by the way his hair bounced as he walked.

"Yes'ir?" I said, almost timidly.

Opening his blue eyes widely, he proceeded to ask me if and when we would ever see land again.

"I really do not know, sir," I replied, clutching the mop with both hands. "Captain Marksby says it will be another month or so."

"A month!" he exclaimed, a look of shock settling on his rosy features. "This just will not do!"

He began to pace in front of me, one hand clutching a notebook of sorts and the other skimming his hair ever so smoothly.

"Why, sir?" I asked, knowing I probably did not want to hear his answer.

"This salty air! That's why!" he replied, testily. "It's just no good for my hair!"

I couldn't believe my ears, and had to be sure I heard him right: "Your…_hair_, sir?"

"Yes, _my hair_!"

"May I ask why, sir?"

Sighing and rolling his eyes, he replied, "It dries my hair out. My hair is very sensitive and needs the moisture. This air dries it completely out!" With that last complaint, he waved his hand through the air and sniffed.

I had never seen anyone like him…I did not know what to make of him at all.

After a few minutes had passed, he finally gave up trying to explain his hair dilemma and getting me to say exactly when we were to make landfall. I think he went in search of the captain, but I did not know until I saw the captain making his way over to me a few moments later.

"Mr. Harmon," Captain Marksby said, hands clasped behind his back. "I was so informed that you were not helpful to one of the passengers just now."

I was angry that the passenger would say such a thing, as I had told him I did not know when we would arrive at the islands. "Captain, I tried to answer his questions, but I-"

He stopped me. "I know you tried, Mr. Harmon…this particular passenger is a difficult sort of chap and has complained about everything since setting foot aboard the first time."

"Who is he, sir?" I inquired. "If I am allowed to ask…"

Smiling, the captain invited me to walk with him. "That, young Jenn, is Jonathan Worthy, one of Europe's most wealthy citizens. He has more money than sense, I believe. A patron of many things, including opera and the theatre, he has backed many artistic endeavors; in fact, he is engaged to one Hélène Chénier, one of Paris' leading opera singers. Have you ever heard of her? I thought not. She has the voice of an angel, clearly hitting some of the highest notes imaginable without any effort."

I listened intently, interested in these people who lived so lavishly. "Have you heard her sing, captain?"

He nodded, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. "Anyone who wants to be seen in social settings has attended an opera with Mademoiselle Chénier as the lead singer. Not only is she the top opera singer in Europe, she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the privilege of seeing in person."

"What does she look like?"

"She is a tiny lady, only so tall," he said, showing me with his hand. "When she is not in costume, she has the most beautiful red hair, styled into perfect sized curls. Her eyes are the color of the sky on the clearest day. Her smile could light up the night…" His voice drifted off, as he started thinking about the beautiful opera singer.

…_if she is as beautiful and popular as the captain says, why would she marry someone like Jonathan Worthy? _"If I may, sir," I started slowly. "…why would Mademoiselle Chénier want to marry someone like Mr. Worthy? Does she love him?"

"Ah, the innocence of a young girl…it is status that she is marrying, Mr. Harmon, not the person."

I was thoroughly confused. "She is marrying status? What happened to Mr. Worthy?"

Lightly chuckling, Captain Marksby looked at me. "Often women will marry someone for their money or position in society. Love never plays into the marriage. Sometimes love will eventually occur, but it is not a common happening, especially in the marriages of the high class."

With that statement, I began to wonder if my parents had married for this…status. I tried to remember if Aunt Felicity had ever mentioned anything, but I soon recalled she never spoke of my parents unless I asked about something specifically.

Captain Marksby had a look on his face that I did not recognize…had I seen it once I was older, I would have known it was the look of unrequited love. For Mademoiselle Chénier? I did not know and never would find out, as the captain never spoke of his personal life.

Before I could ask another question, he had disappeared into the depths of his cabin where he remained for hours.


End file.
